


Norway X Violinist!Reader- Open Windows

by AceOfHearts



Series: Open Windows [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-08-22
Packaged: 2017-12-11 17:05:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/801067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceOfHearts/pseuds/AceOfHearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yuh, the next chapter of my third series~ I should complete some requests //shot and do homework //dead The pieces are slowly coming together... Join Mathias on his quest of giving girl advice to his friends! Just kidding. I might make it a oneshot one day....<br/>-----------------<br/>(c) Hidekaz Himuraya owns the characters of Hetalia, I own this story and other possible oneshots, and you own yourself!<br/>------------<br/>Hej, hei, etc. are the ways to say 'hello' in the Scandinavian languages. Except for 'hey, hi, hello'. That's English XD<br/>-----------<br/>Translations: Hold kjeft: shut up<br/>---------<br/>Enjoy!</p>
        </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The clang of your metal locker door closing echoes in the empty hallway. Twirling the padlock of your combination lock to reset it, you pick up your backpack, adjusting the weight evenly on your shoulders. Letting out a small, tired sigh, you make your way down the winding staircase to the ground floor of your school. Walking down on what seems to be an endless hallway, you finally reach your destination-the unused school auditorium.

The door opens with a groan and you peer inside, making sure that no one's in there. You grope for the bulky light switch on the wall next to you, and it makes a sharp snap sound as it's flicked on. After closing the door cautiously, you tread down the sloped aisle, while the lights overhead warm up and bathe the auditorium in a sickly-looking glow. You don't really mind that everything in the auditorium is pretty ancient from years of disuse; in fact, you quite like it. It is a dramatic contrast to the state-of-the-art technology and custom, trendy furniture throughout the school.

You're sure that this place used to be popular in its heyday, but now, the curtains are dusty and faded, the hems frayed. You close your eyes for a few moments and imagine what it could've been like back then. There would be people filling in the seats, with a choice few in the balcony. The performer- or performers- would've been in a spotlight, voicing their emotions through their talents. The sound of enthusiastic clapping would have erupted at the end, with a few flowers thrown in. 

Pulling yourself up onto the creaky floorboards of the stage, you sling your backpack off, your shoulders relieved of its burden. You go backstage and turn on some of the switches, and look for your violin case. Spotting it in its ever-present place, you bring it out onto the stage floor and unzip it. The smell of wood and rosin meet your nose- a familiar fragrance. Taking out the bow and rosin, you tighten the screw at the end and sweep the bow back and forth on the rosin. Satisfied with the bow's condition, you take out your pride and joy, your violin.

Plucking the strings a few times to make sure it's in tune, you raise it up to the crook of your neck. The cold wood digs into your skin, but you're used to it, just like you're used to the calluses on your fingertips. Raising the bow to stroke the strings, your fingers go through warm-up scales for a few minutes. To amuse yourself, you make up a game where you have to remember all the songs you learned and play parts of them. The catch is that you can't stop for more than a few seconds; you have to transition through the songs as quickly as possible.

You start with the easy songs you learned many years ago as a child, smiling as you remember how much you used to complain about how hard they were. You play the songs all the way through, since they're so short, and move onto the intermediate ones. To have some variety, you alternate from happy, light songs to dark, heavy ones, the tempo changing as quickly as the key signatures.

You get a little bored from your game and decide to practice some folk music from different countries. As you finish Irish jig music, you go to Scandinavian folk songs. You've never really practiced this kind, but you mostly wing it. The music sways and swings, with trills almost every other measure. You pick another one, a Christmas hymn, that you learned recently. The first time you heard it, it sent shivers down your spine with how beautiful and moving it was. It was called 'Mitt Hjerte Alltid Vanker'. The low, haunting sound in the beginning resonates in the violin, and becomes more intense as the song goes on. You close your eyes as you play the last few measures, the sound fading all too quickly into the empty auditorium.

Feeling a little unfulfilled with how the song went, you go back to the parts where you messed up a little on, such as the quick octave changes and the few trills you missed. Focused on getting your fingers to where they need to be, you don't notice the small audience in the front row. Only after you raise your eyes do you see them, and you let out a small yelp of surprise and immediately stop playing, your bow hanging limply by your side.

"S-S-Sorry!" You say, flustered. "I'll go leave right now!" You put your bow back on its holder, wipe and put away your violin, and zip up the case. You put it in its spot backstage, and hoist your backpack over your shoulder, jumping down from the stage. An audience member closest to you grabs your wrist as you pass by.

"Aw, ____! That was so awesome!" He says. You recognize him as Mathias Køhler, one of your classmates. "Wasn't it, guys?" He looks over at his friends. A tall, blond one with glasses lets out a grunt, while the rest nod in agreement.

"Thank you, but-"

"Your playing was so great that Lukas couldn't look away!" Mathias lets out a burst of laughter that quickly turns into a whimper as his arm is punched.

Looking at Lukas with interest, you raise your eyebrows slightly to see if the statement is true. His stoic expression remains unchanged as he looks back at you. Slightly disappointed, but unsure why, you shake off Mathias' hold on your wrist and continue on. The door creaks again as you leave and plunges the auditorium into silence.

"You should've said something, Lukas!"

"........."


	2. Norway X Violinist!Reader- Open Windows Chapter 2

"Hej. Hei. Halló. Hey. Hi. Hello." Mathias pokes your cheek with every word. You pretend to not notice your partner as you write the answers to a Chemistry worksheet. Your pencil tip hovers over the paper as you chew on your lower lip, trying to think of the answer. Your foot taps on the floor in boredom, a quiet squeak coming from it every time it touches the floor.

What is the molecular formula of sucrose?  
The molecular formula of sucrose is C12H22O11. Your pencil scratches down the formula quickly and carefully, then you double check it in your mind. Mathias gives an extra hard poke on your cheek and you turn to look at him in irritation. "Yes, Matthias? May I help you?" You whisper angrily.

"Of course there is something that needs to be helped!" He says in an obnoxiously loud voice, his Danish accent more prominent than ever. A few of your classmates turn to look back at the two of you, wiggling their eyebrows suggestively. You shake your head quickly to deny everything, hair flying into your face as you do so.

"Keep your voice down!" You flick his forehead, leaving a small red mark.

"Ow, _____! No need to be so violent! You could've asked me much more nicely!" He whines, but lowers his voice. "I got to ask you something after class. It's really important!"

"...Fine. Just do your work until then so that you won't get kicked out of class again. Understand?" You pick up your pencil and turn back to your worksheet, which quickly bores you. You rest your cheek in the palm of your hand while with the other hand, you sketch a picture of your violin, a smile forming on your lips. It sounds really silly, but you are literally in love with it. It's been with you on this journey called 'life', ever since you were little. It was there when you needed someone to comfort you, when you needed to let some feelings out, and when you performed in front of small groups.

People always complimented you on how well you played and your talent, but you know it's the teamwork between you and your violin. They've even suggested that you go to competitions, since your playing was really advanced. You've played in front of the whole school a couple of times- during assembly and concerts- but nobody seemed to notice who you were. You aren't one of those popular "scene" people, but one of those who blend in with the crowd and in the blink of an eye, disappear. 

That was up until yesterday. You've never even thought about being noticed by the 'Nordic 5', an exchange group of Scandinavian boys who quickly became popular in your school community. Sure, you've seen them and exchanged a few words, but still, it was pretty surprising that they actually, legitly noticed you.

The teacher taps a ruler on her desk to get the attention of the class. She announces that the worksheet will be homework to be turned in next week, and that it will be graded. You turn to put your things in your backpack and quickly zip it up. You debate between asking the teacher about a question that was bugging you, or to just leave and figure it out later. The choice is not made by you, but rather, Mathias.

He drags you out of the classroom by the scruff of your uniform collar with one hand, and has your backpack slung over his shoulder. You put your hands over your ears, to block out the sound of giggling in the hallway. "Kudos to Mathias for taking such drastic measures." You think. He drags you into a hallway you've never seen before, and stops in front of an unused classroom. You slap at his hands to make him release his grip on you. He does, and you fall in an ungraceful manner onto the floor. Your butt hits the cold floor with a bump, and the air is knocked out of you for a few seconds. You wheeze and cough until you regain your breath and dust yourself off before glaring at him.

"Welcome to the lair of the Nordic 5! It belongs to me, the King of Northern Europe!" He presents the room with a huge fanfare and gestures.

"Sure." You say, sarcastically. "What's so important that you have to drag me here? What happened to civilized talking?" You put your hands on your hips to have a look of authority and disdain.

He ignores you and opens the door, revealing the rest of the group sitting on chairs around a polished wooden table. "I brought her, guys! I told you I would!" He says.

A short blond with violet eyes stands up to greet you. "Hi, ____! Your playing was fantastic yesterday! My name's Tino, by the way!" He has a genuine smile on his face and you immediately smile back.

"Hej, _____. 'm B'rw'ld." The tall blond that you saw yesterday speaks without standing. Looking up, you see that you're being appraised by piercing blue-green eyes. You wave a little warily at him.

"This is Lukas and Emil, ____!" Mathias shoves you in their direction. Stumbling from the push, a hand settles on your shoulder before you faceplant on the ground.

"Pleasure to meet you, but haven't I seen you before?" A low, monotone voice asks, and you find that you are face to face with Lukas, his hand still on your shoulder.

"Maybe," you answer. "It depends on where exactly, though." You turn away from him, to look at the figure sitting at the edge of the table. "And you must be Emil?" Emil gives no answer, except for a slight nod.

"And the final question is, why am I here?" You ask, arms flung out in exasperation.

"Mathias wants you to teach him how to play violin." Lukas says in a bored tone, while the rest of the group turn and look at him with disbelief and amusement. His finger traces the tabletop, while you look around in confusion.

"Lukas! That's not true! You want to learn, not me! I brought her here so that you could ask her yourself, not for you to substitute me in!" Mathias says, shocked. "Go on, ask her!" The group looks on with interest, hiding the sound of snickering behind their hands.

His finger continues tracing the wood, making swirling patterns. He lets out a dramatic sigh and says, "_____, can you please teach me how to play violin? I would like to learn from you."

Mathias lets out a loud guffaw and congratulates his friend by slapping him on the back. "See, Lukas? This is how you talk to girls! You have to take the initiative or-"

"Hold kjeft, Mathias!"

"So, that's a 'yes', right?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yuh, the next chapter of my third series~ I should complete some requests //shot and do homework //dead The pieces are slowly coming together... Join Mathias on his quest of giving girl advice to his friends! Just kidding. I might make it a oneshot one day....  
> \-----------------  
> (c) Hidekaz Himuraya owns the characters of Hetalia, I own this story and other possible oneshots, and you own yourself!  
> \------------  
> Hej, hei, etc. are the ways to say 'hello' in the Scandinavian languages. Except for 'hey, hi, hello'. That's English XD  
> \-----------  
> Translations: Hold kjeft: shut up  
> \---------  
> Enjoy!


	3. Norway X Violinist!Reader- Open Windows Chapter 3

"Okay, so you stand like this." You say. "No, not like that, like this." You straighten up Lukas and bring his shoulders to a relaxed position. "That's better." Walking around him to check his posture, you nod approvingly. He lets out a small sigh and looks over at his friends, who, in unison, flash him a big thumbs up. He looks longingly at the open violin case next to your own. You were originally going to lt him borrow yours for the time being, but apparently Berwald made one for him instead.

\---------  
~Flashback: A few days ago~  
A group of hands lead you into a house, while you are blindfolded. A warm scent meets your nose, probably something baking. Whatever it is, it smells delicious, and your stomach growls. You wish that you could stop to eat, but the hands keep leading you down a long hallway. The sound of a door opening is not too far from you and a faint breeze goes across your face. You notice a slight temperature drop, along with the scent of fresh wood.

A gentle touch on your shoulder stops you and the blindfold is taken off. You're standing in what seems to be a workshop full of hammers and the like, with pieces of furniture lined up in the back. The curls of wood shavings pile up in random corners, releasing the scent of wood you smelled earlier. The table pushed against the wall is probably what your friends want you to see, but more so on what's on it. 

Walking over to the table, your eyes widen and you gape in surprise. You are spellbound at how beautifully crafted the violin is, the glossy wood softly shining, the strings a stark contrast in white. You pick up and run your hands over the body of the violin, marveling at the smooth, almost flawless transition from spruce to maple on the front and back, and the matte ebony of the fingerboard, pegs, tailpiece, and endpin. Your finger traces the intricate carving of the scroll and move to the bow, which is also a beauty. The horsehair shines, held in a straight position by the carefully crafted bow. Mathias and Tino chuckle at your ogling and wonder, while Lukas and Emil are talking in the back of Berwald's workshop, looking over at you occasionally.

Gently putting down the violin back on the table, you stride over to Berwald to give him a huge smile and a hug. He looks down at you with his usual expression, but his eyes soften and he hugs you back in response.

"You did such a amazing job, Berwald! It's so beautiful!" You exclaim.

"'t w's n'th'ng, r'l'y. B't, t'n'k y', ______."

"You should try playing it, _____! I want to hear you play again!" Tino suggests, picking up the violin.

"I'm not really sure if I should, since it's Lukas's, not mine..." You say, looking over at Lukas for his input. He nods, giving you permission to play it.

You take the violin and place it on your shoulder, the side of your face and chin gently cupping it on the chin rest. You bring up the bow and play a quick song, the notes perfectly tuned and clear. Bringing it over to Lukas, you present it to him.

He seems to be at a loss of what to do, so you demonstrate your motions, and he seems to get a sense of it. He places the violin perfectly in place but fumbles with the bow, unsure of what to do with it. You place your hand over his and gently curve it into a 'c' shape, index finger on the grip, middle and ring finger curving more until they almost touch the horsehair, and pinky in what you called a 'precarious' position; it supports the bow at the end by the nail, or at the fingertip. The thumb makes up the bottom curve of the 'c', touching the fingertip of the middle finger, but not quite.

Removing your hand, you see that he has it in the position you put it in, and you motion him to try playing the strings, and he does so, but a little clumsily, the bow sliding across the strings and emitting a noise between a squeak and screech. A giggle rises up because it reminds you of the first time you tried playing, but you it dies as you notice that Lukas is turning uncharacteristically red.

With restrained anger, he puts the instrument and its partner back on the table and stalks out of the room. The quiet thumps of his footsteps are heard overhead and a door is clicked shut. The workshop is completely silent, except for the sound of breathing and the quiet ticks of a clock on the wall.

Mathias turns to Emil and elbows him slightly in the side. "Maybe you should-" He suggests.

"No way! He's going to kill me if I go up there, unless I call him by what he wants to hear, and I'm not going to do that!" Emil protests before Mathias can finish his sentence. "When he gets angry, he gets really angry." His face pales a bit, and the other Nordics' faces do also.

"Maybe Berwald can go talk to him, what about that idea?" You say, and shoot Berwald a glance. He coughs a bit and suddenly becomes occupied in moving the furniture around the room and dusting them off.

"It can't be that bad, right?" You say with false cheerfulness. "I mean, Lukas isn't that kind of guy from what I know."

"Why don't you go find out for yourself, _____?" Tino says with a grimace. "You'll see what we mean when you do."

"Where is hi-"

"Second door on the left, _____! Uh, good luck?!" Mathias shouts and pushes you out of the workshop, then closes the door.

Following the scent of whatever's baking, you come into the kitchen, where you remember that you passed by here not too long ago. Quickly looking around to check that no one's there, you peek into the oven to find trays of baked goods. You resist the urge to snag one for yourself, and climb the stairs to the second door on the left.

"Hey, Lukas, can we talk?" You say, the words echoing around the hallway and bouncing back as if to mock you.

The door inches open and a deep blue eye peers out at you. He opens the door fully and invites you in. He sits down on the floor, back against the wall, and stares up at the ceiling. You're unsure of whether you should sit on his furniture, so you decide to sit a few feet away from him, mimicking his pose. From what it looks like, you don't think he's angry at all, just a little bit embarrassed.

An intricate mobile with twisting patterns and dark blue stones set in it spins in the air on the ceiling. It sparkles in little flashes of light and what seem to be fairies hang down from the strings. You sneak glances around his room, taking in your surroundings. The wallpaper seems hauntingly mystical, with a foggy wood at night with the moon shining. Spots of glowing orbs are seen, with a few fairies spotted here and there. The whole thing seems to be a painting around the four walls of the room.

The room isn't that dark, but it seems to be accented by the wallpaper and by the fact that the window is covered by a light curtain. It rides the breeze coming through from the open window, and brings scents of flowers. Lukas is still absorbed in looking up at the ceiling, but moves his gaze to the swaying mobile.

"I'm such a failure, _____." He says, breaking the silence.

"Huh?"

"I failed at my first try at violin." He says again, but describes it a little bit more.

"Lukas, everyone fails at their first time in everything. It's okay."

"But-"

"Failing is a part of life, and everyone does that and also make mistakes. How do you think we get better? By practicing and failing. We learn from our mistakes." You recite and look over at him.

"I understand now, ______. Thank you." He says in response, offering you a halfhearted smile.

"Are you ready, then?" You stand up and offer him your hand.

"Ready." He says, grasping it.  
~Flashback End~  
\------------------  
"Okay, everything seems to be in order, so, your first lesson starts now!"


	4. Norway X Violinist!Reader Chapter 4

~2 months later~

"Take it."

"No."

"Take it."

"No."

"Take it!"

"No!"

"For the last time, take it!" You practically scream, waving a small plastic device in his face.

"No!" He yells back.

"Why not? It's not going to kill you!"

"Maybe it will!"

"It's just a metronome! Get over it!" You snap, patience wearing thin. The metronome bounces back and forth in your hands in your agitation.

"I can practice perfectly fine without it!"

"Geez, Lukas! Every musician has practiced with a metronome at least _once_ , if not more! Don't give me that uppity attitude just because you learn everything so fast!"

"And that's why I don't need it." He replies, a faint trace of smugness in his words and around his lips.

"Prove it, _oh great master of violin_ , by playing measure 15 again."

He picks up the bow and takes a deep breath before he places it gently on the strings, and proceeds to play the pick-up note and octave written in the aforementioned measure. Everything is perfect until he reaches the middle of the octave and plays it more quickly than it needs to be. Realizing his mistake, he stops playing and purses his lips.

You tap your foot and cough discreetly while on the inside, you're laughing gleefully. You count down the seconds before he says something.

"I was wrong." He mumbles.

"What? I can't hear you over the sound of the wrong notes you played!" You say sarcastically, and somewhat regret it afterwards for probably hurting his feelings.

"I was wrong." He repeats, a little louder.

"What did you learn today, Lukas?" You reply.

"I need a metronome. Fine. Happy?"

"It's not about me being happy, it's about playing it the right way." You correct him gently. Deciding not to torment him any further, you bend down and pocket the device in his violin case, right in front of him.

"Hey, ______. How can I be like you?" He says, suddenly.

"What?" This question takes you by surprise.

"What do I do to play like you?" He's looking intently at your face, as if the answer will suddenly come out of it.

"Um, practice a lot, I guess? It should be pretty obvious by now, right?"

No answer.

"Look, Lukas. Maybe to you, being perfect is everything, but it's not really correct, at least, not to me. I don't play perfect to be perfect, I play because I want to _feel_ what I'm playing, not just hear it."

"It takes both the mind," you say, and brush his forehead at the same time, "and the heart." At this, you place your hand over his heart, and for a few seconds, feel his heartbeat.

"Wow. Okay, sorry for doing that! I just wanted to prove my point, even though it sounded really weird, don't you think so?" You take your hand away and let it go back to your side. "Also, I don't mean to force my beliefs on you. If you think your way of playing is correct, then it's fine. We all have our own ways of playing music."

He still doesn't speak, and stands there with a glazed and distant look in his eyes. You snap your fingers in front of his face, and he comes back to normal.

"Well, I have to go now, but I'll see you tomorrow!" You hop down from the stage and make your way up the aisle. "Oh, and don't forget to practice with the metronome!" You say with mock seriousness. 

The door slams shut behind you, but the lights still stay on for Lukas.

**Author's Note:**

> My third series in the making~ Hnng.  
> Like all my other series, it was born with a random burst of inspiration when I was listening to Bella's Lullaby...I can't- I don't even-  
> I would tell you what the storyline's going to be like, but that would ruin the surprise. And don't even get me started on the title, because it just came with the "random inspiration" package.  
> \------------  
> (c) Hidekaz Himuraya owns Hetalia, I own this story, and you own yourself~  
> (c) Hans Adolph Brorson owns the hymn "Mitt Hjerte Alltid Vanker"  
> \--------  
> The hymn's title is "My Heart Always Wanders". There's not really a clear, accurate translation (from what I could find), so you can try to look it up if you wish. The instrumental and singing versions are both very beautiful, so I recommend that you listen to them~  
> \--------  
> Enjoy!~


End file.
